Knack (Benjamin Brown Book 1)

by Tom Twitchel

  “No. My mom and I just got into town!”

  “Why I don’ believe you? Don’ let me see you again, niño. Don’ make me cry for you.” With a painful last squeeze, he shoved me away from him. I lost my balance and fell awkwardly sideways. He pointed at me and smiled. There was no warmth in it at all. It was cold and threatening. He dropped the bills he’d been holding and they fluttered down onto my chest.

  “Good magic. Go find your mama.”

  That little episode taught me quite a few things: don’t get cocky, don’t get greedy because that’s when you’ll make a mistake, don’t mess with someone who looks and feels dangerous because they probably are and no matter how many witnesses are around, a crazy person is still crazy.

  And crazy, oddly enough, has a flipping long memory.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  My trips to the post office, as well as the bank, had been a daily thing, and while my leg still didn’t work right, the pain was fading. Using my trusty bus pass, I was able to run multiple errands without wearing myself out. I’d returned the crutches to Seth a few days earlier so when I got back to the hostel I was pretty beat but excitedly clutching a few small packages along with a stack of letters. As luck would have it, the social worker showed up on the same day that I picked up some very important mail. I was shakily yet happily reading through it when Seth walked in my room with a much older woman.

  “Hey Ben, this is Miss Hoch. She’s with Social Services and needs to spend some time talking with you.”

  Miss Hoch had probably been really pretty when she was younger, but she was older than Seth was and dressed like it, so, pretty forgettable. What was striking about her were her eyes—bright lavender. I had never seen anything like them and it made all of the other details about her disappear. When she smiled, her cheeks dimpled and she looked younger.

  “Hi, Ben. Let’s find a seat and talk.”

  Hastily pulling my mail together, I shielding it from the two of them with my body and stuffing it all under my pillow, I got up and followed them to the hostel office. Seth excused himself and gave me a smile as he walked out the door and closed it behind him.

  Miss Hoch sat in Seth’s chair and pulled a thin file folder from a leather satchel. Opening it, she plucked a pen from her purse and looked me in the eyes. It was unnerving. She exuded confidence and I picked up an odd sense of emptiness. I’d never felt it from someone before. Miss Hoch must have skipped a meal or something.

  “Ben, let’s start with some personal information.” She seemed nice, but I had already become a little jaded. There’s an old line my mom used to say, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” So, even though she was just doing her job, I was getting a bad tingling along the back of my neck. I prepared to tell as many half-truths as necessary to preserve my independence and protect me from her well-intended snooping.

  I had to abandon the half-truth tactic immediately and started with plain old lying. The next twenty minutes covered my hastily made up last name “Brown,” a repeat of the my-mom-left-me-here-with-a-promise-to-return fib and a complete fabrication when she asked me where I came from originally: Maine. I’d done a little research on Maine so I was prepared to answer some general questions, but she skipped over that, either not believing me or planning on circling back to it later. I was busy patting myself on the back: a little dissembling (lying), a little misdirection (more lying) and I figured I had bamboozled the low-level government worker who was only focused on checking off the boxes on her list.

  Then she came back to the big question. Being thirteen and self-deluded is a very heavy burden.

  “Now, let’s talk about your parents.”

  There it was. The gantlet was thrown down. The hair on my neck danced around a little. She had peppered me with the anticipated boilerplate administrative paperwork and then the real question.

  “Okay.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Marta and Jorge.” Not original but remember: thirteen years old.

  “That’s hysterical Ben. Let’s try that again. How about your mom’s name?”

  “Minnie.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Mickey.”

  She pursed her lips and scribbled something before she looked up at me again. Irritation and fatigue cast a shadow over her face. The dimples were hidden and the lavender eyes were narrowed. For the first time, I could see the tiny network of fine lines around her eyes and mouth. A lot of depressing cases and long days ending with mind-numbing paperwork had written their story there, I thought. It made me feel guilty, but it didn’t change my plan. The tingling in my neck increased and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  “That’s less funny the second time. If I ask what your father’s name is one more time, mentioning that Seth tells me it’s Dennis, will your answer be different?”

  I made a big show of sighing heavily, “Yeah, it’s Dennis.”

  Eyebrows arched, eyes gazing at me suspiciously, she asked, “And your mom?”

  Another dramatic sigh, “Meredith.” Not true.

  “Mmm.” The pen moved briefly over her paper.

  “Why did you tell Seth your mom was coming back to pick you up when it seems fairly obvious that she isn’t even in Seattle?”

  “She might be. I’m not sure anymore.”

  “Do you know where your dad is?”

  I was ready for that one. “He’s in jail.” If only.

  “Why is he in jail?”

  “For what he did to me and my mom.”

  More scribbling. “Do you know what prison he’s in?”

  “No. State prison I guess. Back in Maine.”

  She looked at my left eye for a moment. The bruising was long gone, but the drooping eyelid was an obvious sign of trauma.

  “Does that eye represent what he did to you, Ben?”

  “Yes, ma’am. At least what you can see.”

  “And the leg?”

  “Yes.”

  She scribbled some notes and then looked back up at me. “You probably aren’t in a hurry to see him again. Is it possible that your mom went back? Back home, to wait for him to get out of jail?”

  There was an ugly thought. What if she had gone back to him? And here I was hundreds of miles away? No, she wouldn’t. Not after what she had written in the note, and definitely not with Dennis in the frame of mind he had been in the night I left. People change, sure, but there’s another saying, provided with loving intent from my mom: “A leopard can’t change its spots.” That seemed like the accurate read on Dennis.

  “No.”

  She had written more information down on the form before she spoke again.

  “How about other family members? Grandparents, aunts, uncles?”

  Now I was starting to get uncomfortable. Any connection to my extended family could potentially put me back in Dennis’ control. I felt a pang of regret about Billy, for maybe like the thousandth time.

  “Yeah, my dad was an orphan and my mom’s family has all passed away.”

  “That’s really sad Ben. How do you feel about that?” Her mouth was drawn in a thin line and I could tell she wasn’t buying it.

  “Not good. I mean, if they had still been around they probably could have stopped my dad.” Not likely. Dennis had done a very good job of hiding everything from our relatives, until he had started boozing so heavily.

  “Mmm. Do you know where I’m headed with all of this Ben?”

  “No.”

  “If I can’t find your parents you’ll be declared a ward of the state. Your welfare will be the responsibility of Child Protective Services. We’ll place you in a foster home. Is that what you want?”

  No. “I’m happy enough here. Seth is really nice to me.”

  She put the papers she had been writing on back in the folder and pushed it aside. Folding her hands on the desk, she gave me a hard look.

  “Yes. I’m sure he is. I’m not going to go into that too deeply because Seth knows that he s
hould have called me weeks ago. But he’s decent and more importantly, he is as close to a good Samaritan as anyone I’ve come across in managed shelters. But,” she waggled a finger at me, “this environment is completely inappropriate for unaccompanied minors. One night would be a problem. The length of time you’ve been spending here is unacceptable.”

  All of the moisture got sucked out of my mouth and throat. My tongue felt numb and I began to sense that this adult had seen through my lies and would have no problem doing exactly what she said.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked.

  “I’m scared.” That was honest.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I understand. I would be too in your situation. When I came here today, I wasn’t prepared to take you with me. But if it will make you feel better I can make a couple of phone calls and get something arranged and we can leave together.” Something bubbled under the surface of her thoughts that I couldn’t define. It was dark and communicated some kind of frustration. I figured she was getting fed up with my misdirection.

  I had completely misread this whole session.

  “Uh, I don’t want to go anywhere tonight. I’m not that scared.”

  Leaning back from the desk she picked up the folder and put it into her briefcase. Sitting back in the chair. She locked those strangely colored eyes on me. It was obvious that she didn’t trust me or what I had been telling her.

  “I’ll set it up for tomorrow then. You’ll be picked up in the morning at the latest. Don’t leave the premises for any reason. Are we clear on that?”

  “Yes,” I spoke quickly, probably too quickly.

  “Is that the truth Ben? Seth could be in trouble if you up and disappeared on us.”

  An uncomfortable weight of guilt pressed down on me. Just as she had planned, I was sure.

  “I don’t want to get Seth in trouble.”

  She smiled at that. But the smile was thin and suspicious. I had underestimated her and overestimated myself.

  My internal alarm was banging away. As if I needed that to tell me I was in deep.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After I got back to my room, I sat down to think through my options. It took a while to clear my thoughts because, as much as I liked Seth, I felt betrayed. And the social worker? She was just doing her job, but it seemed like she was more than happy to whisk me off to a foster home full of God knew who or what. The feeling I had picked up from her had scared the crap out of me.

  By the time I’d figured out my plan of action it had gotten late and the hostel’s curfew was in effect. Not too big a deal but moving around would be more likely to attract attention. I stuffed all of my belongings into a canvas duffel bag I’d bought a few days before. Hefting it, I was disappointed to realize that it was pretty heavy. Not too heavy to carry but definitely a weight that would slow me down and make lugging it around awkward. The next order of business was to take off the cast. What I was planning wouldn’t work if I had to deal with it. I wasn’t sure how much healing had taken place, but I felt like there was no other option.

  Have you ever tried to remove a cast by yourself? A strenuous and messy hour later, I had it off. I stared at what Dennis had done to my leg. It was slightly smaller now than my right leg and there was a sickening curve between the kneecap and the ankle. Putting my foot flat on the floor, I put some weight on it. There wasn’t any sharp pain, but there was a weakness and a pulsing ache. I figured I could deal with that.

  I pulled my sweatpants over it and went about cleaning up the mess and dumping the pieces of the cast into a wastebasket.

  I strapped my backpack in place, picked up the duffel and cracked the door to my room. The lights hadn’t been dimmed for the evening yet and that made me nervous. The brightly lit hall and community areas would make getting to the kitchen, and the exit there, difficult to do without being seen. Looking both ways, I figured the path was as clear as it was going to get. Hustling into the hallway and then through the cafeteria to the kitchen was nerve wracking. I found myself wanting to look over my shoulder, but told myself if I was going to get caught by Seth it would happen whether I turned around or not, and if I looked sneaky someone might think it was a good idea to ask me what I was up to.

  Once I got into the kitchen, I relaxed a bit. The evening crew had finished up and it was deserted, and the night emergency light was the only illumination so it was dimly lit. I had washed dishes a couple of times for Seth so I knew my way around and had no problem getting to the back door in the shadowy spaces between food racks, bus tubs and cooking equipment. The rear exit in the kitchen was located next to the dry storage. It was a big metal door set in a metal frame with no knob, just a big crash bar that only allowed the door to be opened from the inside. Once I got there, I checked my pack for comfort, hefted the duffel again, and then…stopped. The door wasn’t completely closed. It was slightly ajar, held open by a piece of torn cardboard. I could feel the cold air from the alley blowing in through the thin crack. Someone had wedged the cardboard there so they could get back in. An omen? A sign that I should abandon my plan?

  I hesitated as an unsettling wave of guilt rippled along my shoulders and curled around to my stomach. Mild nausea burbled threateningly. Whether Seth would get into trouble was debatable. As for Miss Hoch, I had a hard time feeling too bad about potentially causing her grief because her efforts, no matter how technically “right,” could land me right back with Dennis. My hand crept up to my left eye, permanently at half-mast, and rubbed it for no particular reason. Maybe the thought of Dennis made my hand and my eye worried about another go around. Seth had been like a savior to me. The medical attention for my leg, a place to sleep, I would have been in sad shape if I hadn’t been lucky enough to come to this particular hostel that was managed by him. Trouble or no, I was running out on the only person who had befriended me in Seattle.

  There should be a surgical procedure that could remove a conscience. On the other hand, there was a word for people that were born like that and I didn’t want to share that part of Dennis’ legacy. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

  “Well, hello there peewee. Whatcha doin’?”

  Mike had been leaning against the building right by the door smoking a cigarette. I started to step backward into the kitchen, but he lurched at the door and got his foot over the threshold. Holding the door open with one hand, he grabbed the strap of my backpack with the other.

  “Where you goin’? Huh?” The cigarette dangled from his lower lip, glued there by spit.

  “Nothing. I’m just going to see my mom.”

  “Really. Yeah. I don’t think that’s true. Just like I don’t think you were shooting me straight when we were playing cards the other day. I think I won that hand.” He looked at me with a calm almost sleepy look. The look didn’t mesh with the scary vibe I was getting off him.

  “Look, I have to go. If I’m late, my mom will worry.”

  “‘Kay, that’s enough of that. You ain’t going to see your mom. Why you’re sneaking out the back door when your buddy Seth is working, I don’t know and I don’t care. You’re gonna open that bag, and this here pack so I can see what you got that I might need.”

  “That’s my stuff! You can’t do that!” I rasped.

  He roughly pulled me back into the alley and knocked the duffel bag out of my hand. It fell across the threshold and kept the door open. Using the backpack’s strap like a leash, he swung me around. He jerked me so hard that I almost lost my balance.

  Bending at the waist so that we were eye to eye, he growled, “Now, you’re going to open that pack.” He whipped a shiny object out of a pocket, “right now!” He punctuated his threat by flicking out the now clearly visible switchblade.

  What happened next isn’t clear anymore. There was no deliberation or plotting. It was all reaction. He was holding the backpack strap in his right hand and I lunged in that direction hoping to tear it out of his hand and moving away from the blade in his left. At the same
time, I reached out instinctively with my mind and nudged at his balance, specifically his foot, trying to get him to fall.

  He was so surprised that it all happened pretty much the way I hoped it would, except for one thing. When he let go and lost his balance, he did fall—on his knife.

  He screamed a string of obscenities at me which, upsetting as they were, I found strangely comforting. He wasn’t dead if he was yelling. Right? I was scared and covered in cold sweat from all the tension and completely grossed out by the sight of the knife buried to the hilt in his thigh.

  Trying to get to his feet, he staggered and then fell to his knees.

  “I’ll kill you.…”

  I knew how to react to that. I spun on my good foot and limped out of the alley as fast as my bad leg would let me.

  When I looked back, he was rolling on the ground, his figure partially illuminated by the light from the kitchen doorway that was still propped open by my duffel bag.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A small kid with a bad leg doesn’t have a lot of options when it comes to traveling with any kind of speed.

  I got on a bus.

  I spent the first several minutes grieving over the lost duffel. The bad news was that all of my extra clothes, soap, toothbrush and a new pair of shoes were in there—gone for good. The worse news was that all of my food had been in there too. Depression swept over me like an old ratty blanket. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath or catch a break. The number of adults who I continued to run into that were totally okay with roughing up a kid was disturbing. Granted, I wasn’t traveling in the kind of circles that would typically put me in the company of saints and do-gooders, but for crying out loud.

  Then again, Seth was a good guy and I had just bailed on that relationship. I squirmed in my seat, trying to get comfortable on the hard plastic. And maybe trying to escape my responsibility for the events in the alley. Maybe I should go back and tell Seth and Miss Hoch everything and let them help me. Or maybe I should just head back home and beg Dennis for forgiveness for making him knock me down the stairs and breaking my leg.